Louis Hale

★★★☆☆

House so creamy it should come with a napkin, topped with honeyed soul and pointing you toward pool parties sectioned off by velvet ropes, sing-alongs for you to splash around to, and a cast of bejewelled brass and horns players, pitter-patter percussionists, pukka pianists and pick guitarists acting like personal butlers. It’s funky clubbing of sweetness, sunshine and splendour.

Can any vocal, sand-between-toes house music be too blissful, too optimistic, too in love with life? Should the philanthropy of Random Soul’s Yogi and Husky wear a little thin over 74 minutes, there’s a clue is in the title, so no getting agitated by the Australians’ bright and clean sound that’s not going to upset an attractive, well set formula. Nor is it slick to the point of being full of itself (discounting “Are We” and its gratuitous rock solo), or having the divas, damsels and crooners bringing the quickness (“Mysterious” but one smooth operator undressing you with a microphone), constantly brushing their shoulder.

Plus Random Soul know a kick drum when they see one to underpin the live and crisp terrace sessions, the unit able to shift gears from purring, all loving flock pulling back silk sheets (“Gravity”) to greased cougar. Adding a cheeky gatecrashing with the Digital Underground-style “Time to Funk,” where Joshua Heath tells you to dowhatchulike, it’s a debut that will persuade you to quit your job and board the next plane Oz-wards.